


trajectory

by phurn



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, also skydiving is mentioned, lifeline and wraith are the only sane people here, mirage's mum is a plot point, octane and mirage are both dumb as rocks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:14:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25883431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phurn/pseuds/phurn
Summary: octane is a dense idiot, and mirage is equally dense if not denser
Relationships: Mirage | Elliott Witt/Octane | Octavio Silva
Comments: 1
Kudos: 21





	trajectory

“Ey, Silva! Sit still for a damn minute, would ya?” 

For the last three days, Octane’s left leg had been emitting a strange rattling noise whenever he ran. After picking away at it with a screwdriver for an hour, to the long-suffering Ajay Che he marched for some assistance.

“Yuh gotta stop jammin’ a screwdriver in here. Gonna make it worse, and these implants are hard to make.” she warns, picking at the fine connections carefully with tweezers. “Didn’t bump ya up that list for nothin’.”

Octane laughs softly, watching her work. “‘cause you knew how annoying I’d be if I couldn’t run?”

“Insufferable’s more like it!” she fires back, giving him a wide smile.

Ajay and Octavio had been friends for as long as either could care to remember; being children to wealthy absentee parents, they were each other’s only friends back home on Psamathe. It was a stroke of luck that the two ended up in the Games; since Lifeline had left for the Frontier Corps when she was only a teenager, they hadn’t had much physical contact until they shipped off to the Outlands together.

“...what’s on ya mind, Tavi?” Lifeline cuts into the comfortable silence.

“Nothing. Why?”

“Don’tcha try lyin’ to me. I know what that face means.” she smirks, giving him a prod in the chest with the screwdriver she’d just picked up. “Ya got somethin’ heavy sittin’ in ya head.”

“Seriously, hermana. I’m fine. Just my legs are botherin’ me.” Octane insists, leaning back on his arms, trying to give himself an air of levity.

“Tha’s it. Mask off, Silva.” Lifeline starts, leaning away from his knee joint.

“Wh-”

“Ya heard me.” she interrupts, pointing at him with the screwdriver threateningly. “Mask. Off.”

Octane halts, before sighing heavily, and complying with the stern woman. 

‘Mask off’ had become somewhat of a code between the two of them; after the Gauntlet incident, Lifeline had made him promise to be more transparent with her. She felt Octane…  _ Octavio  _ had been living under a facade of adrenaline and exuberance for so long, that she would one day lose her best friend. Octane pulls his goggles up onto his forehead, unclipping his mask and putting it on the floor beside him: he often forgot how hard his elevation mask made it for him to breathe.

“There he is.” Lifeline smiles, finally putting the screwdriver down. “Now, tell me what the problem is, Tavi.”

Octane doesn’t meet her eyes, speaking quietly, “It’s about Mirage.”

“Elliot? What about him?” Ajay responds, not taking her eyes away from her handiwork.

“I, uh… wanna ask him out.”

Lifeline looks at him quizzically, before her eyes widen in realisation.

“Tavi! You an’ him! Forever!” she yells.

“SSSHHHH!” Octane hushes, waving his hands. “Don’t announce it to the whole fuckin’ ship!”

“Ah, sorry.” she replies, much more quietly this time, “Tavi, that’s awesome! But why ya so worried about it?”

“Augh, I’ve been tryin’ to ask him for weeks. Kinda hard to talk about it when you’re bein’ shot at.” he explains, scratching his slightly-stubbly chin. 

“Well go ask ‘im now, Silva!” Lifeline urges, swaying him gently by the shoulder, “Ya gonna have a lil house with a white picket fence and a dog, ya big teddy bear.”

“Stooooooooooop.” 

“Tavi an’ Elliot, sittin’ in a tree…”

“DEJAAAAAAAAAAR. I can’t just ask him now!”

“An’ why not? It’s quiet, ya not doin’ anythin’.” she chides, giving him a pitied look.

“It’s gotta be big, y’know? Somethin’ to remember.” 

“Ah… the Octane special. Got it. Well, I can’t promise to help ya out, but ya know I’m in ya corner, Tavi.” Ajay assures, putting an ungloved hand on his cheek. “All the way.”

Octane offers her a bashful smile, finally meeting her eyes and placing a hand over hers. “I know, hermana. You too.”

\---

The second time Octane asks… it’s not a good time. But the plan is  _ perfect _ . The goggles and mask were  _ off  _ this time.

Mirage had been out all day manning his bar, the Paradise Lounge; he was due back at base in a half hour, which was when Octane would strike. The door to Mirage’s quarters was left unlocked, so he’d let himself in to tidy up a little. Once he was done, the athlete spent some time currently hanging around in his room, looking at all of the trickster’s self-referential memorabilia. Both in the comfort of his own room and on the battlefield, it seemed Octane was never far from an army of Elliots. Speaking of which…

The door slides open, and Mirage walks in, looking appropriately dishevelled. “Oh. Hey Tav.” he greets, flat and unwavering.

“Heeeeey, El!” Octane greets the engineer, “How was… your…”

Octane pauses, reading more deeply into Mirage’s expression and form. He looks… exhausted. Not just that, but he looks a little… sad?

“...are you okay?” Octane questions, sitting up as he watches Mirage dump his coat over his chair and kick his boots off. His question doesn’t get an answer until Elliot finally sits down on his bed with a heavy sigh.

“I called Mom after work today.” he begins, raking a hand through his hair.

_ Oh _ . 

“Is she okay?” Octane already knows the answer, and sits down next to Mirage to support him.

“...she didn’t know my name, Tavi.” Mirage confides, “She didn’t recognise my voice… she didn’t know who she was  _ talking  _ to-” He stops abruptly, a familiar waver in his words. “She sounded so  _ confused _ .”

His tone of voice makes Octane’s heart  _ break _ ; it was always so frightening to hear the charismatic and brash showman sound so small and lost. While he barely knew what it was to have a mother, he could tell that this was murdering Elliot inside.

“Fuck... I’m sorry, El.” he offers, placing a hand on Elliot’s shoulder. “I didn’t know it had gotten that bad.”

“It’s been slow going, but…” Mirage starts, sniffling quietly, “Yeah, she’s not doing so well.” He accepts Octavio’s hand, placing his other hand on top and turning to face him, not meeting his eyes. “I don’t know what else I can do.”

“Hey, she’s living comfortably, she’s got people who take care of her… shit, Elliot, you’re makin’ her a cure. You’re doin’ everything.” he counters, leaning forward to try and get Mirage to look up.

“I know, I just… I wish there was more I could… I--” he stops, his face crumpling a little, “She’s the only one I’ve got left. I can’t lose her too, not after--”

“Hey.” Octavio stops him, free hand moving up to his face. “You’re not losing her. Maybe I can pull a few strings at Silva Pharm, get back in my dad’s good books…”

“I wouldn’t ask you to do that, Tavi.”

“I know. But I’d do it.”

“I know.” Mirage takes a deep, shaking breath, trying to get his composure back. “I know you would.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a minute, a few tears spilling from behind Mirage’s carefree facade as he tries to pull himself back under control. Octane hates watching him cry, feeling powerless to do anything about his pain or his sadness. 

“...can you stay here for a while? Please? I don’t wanna be alone right now.”

“Of course.” he agrees immediately, pulling his friend into a gentle hug, a sad laugh bubbling out of the trickster across from him.

“You must think I’m so path- pathec… dumb.” Elliot stumbles over his words, the stress overriding his ability to speak.

“Nah.” Octane responds quickly, rubbing his back with one hand. He gathers some courage, with those brown eyes off him. “I care about you, El.”

Another short laugh erupts from the trickster, a sniffle following quickly. “Aw. Thanks, Tavi.” Elliot replies in a watery tone. 

_ If only you knew how much I meant that, _ Octane thinks.

\---

As little as Octane enjoyed asking for help, there was only one woman who could help him out now. Yes, it was time for an audience with Mirage’s void-walking confidante.

“Hey, uh, Wraith?” he calls, announcing his presence as he rounds the corner into her quarters. Wraith lays reclined on her bed, idly reading a copy of  _ Interdimensional Physics for Dummies _ , which Octane suspects is an ironic joke on her part.

“Would it kill you to knock?” she replies, the smirk on her face dissolving any venom in her words. “I’m trying to get some reading done.” Not liking to be still for longer than necessary, Octane sits on the end of her bed by her crossed feet. 

Just by proxy of being close to Elliot, Wraith had become a comfortable friend over the course of the games. No doubt, she was still an enigma in Octavio’s eyes: she could disappear and reappear whenever she liked, phase through interdimensional portals, and made sipping a dainty little appletini look threatening. But underneath her game-worthy persona, she was an honourable friend and a reliable ally, especially to Mirage.   
“I wanted to ask you about El.” Octane says, fumbling restlessly with his hands.   
“...right?” Wraith begins, setting her book aside for a moment, “What about him?”

“I gotta ask him a question.  _ The  _ question.” Octane spits out, as if he’s in a hurry, “It’s a big one. I gotta know how it’s gonna go, y’know? So I need you to use your dimension powers or whatever-”

Wraith chortles.  _ Honest to God, chortles _ . Octavio is briefly taken aback; it was rare that Wraith bore her teeth out of something other than aggression.

“--what--”

“That’s not how dimensions work, Octane.” she chides, giving him a slightly pitied look, “Besides, I can only see the other paths that I have, will, or could take. Other people don’t really come into account. As much as I’d like to see the infinite amount of ways you could fuck this up, I can’t.”

“Augh. Thanks for the vote of confidence, R.” Octane grumbles, resting his chin on his palm. “Woulda liked to know my chances.”

Wraith sighs quietly, “Wraith begins with a W.”

“For real?”

“Mhm. Thought you’d remember that after seeing me on those ‘kill leader’ billboards.” she jabs, trying to raise the mood, but Wraith is met only with frustrated silence. 

She knows how crazy Mirage is about this speedometer-breaking nutcase, not that she has any idea  _ why  _ that might be. She chews the inside of her cheek briefly, mulling over her options. 

“Well, if it makes you feel better, I doubt you need to worry about probability on this one.” Wraith explains, swinging her legs over Octane’s head to sit beside him. “The guy loves you more than he loves his own reflection.” That one summons a mirthful huff from behind the elevation mask, as he turns to her.

“You really think so?”

“You serious, Octane? Have you seen the way he looks at you?” she replies in the affirmative, then smiles with a rare warmth, “There’s very few timelines where he says no.” 

Wraith doesn’t see it, but Octane smiles back.

\---

The third time Octane asks is in the middle of a firefight in the Thunderdome.

“What?!” Elliot shouts over the din of gunfire all around them. “I can’t hear you! Can it wait until we’re  _ not  _ being shot at?!” he adds, turning away briefly to reload the Spitfire in his arms. Octane has to admit; both the hail of bullets and his pulse slamming in his ears renders him deaf, but the adrenaline was perfect for the situation. He leans around the rock they were hiding behind, just waiting for Wraith to portal them away, spraying a little suppressive fire.

“I said, do you want to--” BANG. Third party with a Sentinel, tears through Mirage’s shields and skull like wet tissue paper. He collapses, instantly down.

“ _ Elliot, fuck! _ ” Octane yells: as impermanent as he knows it is, it never comes as less of a visceral shock. He tries not to focus on the blood-soaked hair sticking to his face, or the deep brown eyes glazing over as his organs shut down...

“Better luck next time!” a cheery robotic voice called. Octane slams his fist against the floor, face splattered with his boyfriend’s blood.

“ _ Mierda, Path! Fuckin’ asshole! _ ” Octane yells, spraying his R99 with one hand and yanking Mirage’s respawn banner off his arm with the other. With perfect timing, a portal popped up behind him.

“Come get me, _ hijo de puta _ !” he goads, pulling the Spitfire off Elliot’s corpse and pulling himself through the portal. 

“That was close.” Wraith huffs, closing the portal quickly. “Where’s--”

Octane cuts her off by showing her the banner in his hand.

“Shit. Didn’t get to ask?” she sighs, handing the adrenaline junkie a much-needed Phoenix kit. Octane twists and pulls the canister to charge his shields, shaking his head. “Fuckin’ Pathfinder.”

Wraith snorts, leading the way back to the safest beacon. “Next time, maybe.”

“Yeah.” Octane replies, almost dismissively.

“Tavi, you’ve got red on you.”

“...Shut up.”

\---

“ _ Dropzone approaching. All contenders, convene in your squads and prepare for the drop. _ ”

At the sound of the announcement, Octane’s head shoots up to the billboards above them to find out who he’d be shooting and looting with today.   
“Bangs, me, aaaaand… Witt! Nice.” Octane mutters, making his way over to the drop zone to join his squad. Bangalore was already present, stiff as a toy soldier, only moving to fix her collar.   
“Ready for the drop, numbnuts?” Bangalore sneers, a level of mirth in her voice, “World’s Edge is a goddamn rat run.” 

Octane is only half listening to her, heart thudding in his ears as Mirage casually approaches the two.

“We ready? Been lookin’ for a fight; and hey, maybe you can die in my arms all romantic-like?” he jokes in Octane’s direction. The incoming quip dies on Octane’s lips as the drop pads begin to descend, exposing the squads to the bitter chill of the icy wind around them. 

“Maybe you’ll be the one dying in my arms, mi vida.” Octavio shoots back as Mirage pulls his goggles up over his eyes.

“You wish! I’m gonna be too busy being the best champion ever; I don’t have time to die. Besides, I’ve gotta be the one to pick you up when you go running in.”

Octane loves watching Mirage like this: all bravado and beauty, posturing and generally being a caricature of himself. There was no doubt: Octane is madly in love with this ridiculous trickster. 

“Hey, uh, El-”

“ _ Oscar Mike, ladies! _ We’re dropping Epicenter, get ready for a riot.” Bangalore commands, forcing a muted ‘ugh’ out of the adrenaline junkie. Mirage and Octane look at each other, as the moment dies. Mirage offers him a knowing look.

“Hey, tell me later. Right now, we got a match to win, right?” Mirage encourages, offering him a finger gun and a cheeky wink before peering over the edge, ready to make the leap. 

_ Fuck it. _

Octane smirks under his mask, tugging Elliot by the hand, hard, and they both tumble off the airship into the open air. Bangalore’s irritated yelling and barking of commands is quickly drowned out by the thunderous wind in their ears and the rumble of their jetpacks powering up. Octane pulls him close, tugging his mask off with one hand and grabbing Elliot by the scruff of his collar with the other.

“Tavi, what--”

Octane cuts him off, smashing their mouths together in freefall. Up here, in the air, with danger above and death below, Octane can’t even bring himself to give a shit about the ass-kicking Bangalore would give him for this stunt later. He wants to be like this with Elliot forever, getting into firefights and causing mayhem in the arena until they both die in an awesome explosion of fireworks and smoke. 

Thankfully, after the longest two seconds of his life, Octavio feels Elliot soften against him; there is no resistance or hesitation on his part.

“Finally figured it out, huh?” Mirage asks smugly, their foreheads still together.

“Don’t act so coy, Elliot! You’re as dumb as I am!” Octane chortles, forcing a similar laugh out of the engineer.

“Yeah, okay, ya got me.” he responds, a gloved hand moving up to the adrenaline junkie’s fuzzy cheek. “Now how about we kick some serious ass and then go get a drink.”

“Mmm, sounds good. Let’s tear shit up, mi vida.” Octane responds, offering a cheeky grin.

_ Shit _ , Octane thinks, landing a few feet from Mirage and running to find a gun,  _ I love this asshole. _

\---


End file.
